Scars
by storming-wolf
Summary: A phone call triggers troubling childhood memories for Reid and Maeve has to witness his deterioration and come to terms with her own dark past. Trigger warnings inside.


**This plot has been in my mind for quite some time and I finally found the words to express it. I owe that to "Shattered" by Trading Yesterday.**

**TRIGGER WARNING:** This story contains mentions of self-harm, depression, molestation, incest, rape, suicide, eating disorders, and abuse. If you find any of these bothering or triggering, do not read this story. Stay Strong  


* * *

"_I've lost who I am _

_And I can't understand_

_Why my heart is so broken_

_Rejecting your love"_

Maeve Donovan happily sat on the couch after a long day of work. She had returned to her job earlier that week, just a month after nearly being shot in the head by her stalker, Diane Turner. Her boyfriend, Spencer Reid, came up behind the couch and gave her a welcoming hug and kiss on the cheek.

"You're home a little late," he noted. The geneticist before him faced him with a smile.

"Yeah, I got caught up in my research again. I really missed this," Maeve said. "How was your day?" Spencer was the FBI profiler here, but it didn't take one to notice his relaxed composure to suddenly tense up as he began to recall his day.

"Fine," Spencer said, quickly heading towards their bedroom. Maeve got up from the couch following him.

"Spencer," Maeve said, entering the bedroom. She found him trying to distract himself with straightening up the already neat room. "Spencer, what happened?"

"Nothing. I said today was fine, isn't that enough?" Spencer snapped. He noticed Maeve's hurt expression. "I-I'm sorry. I just had a bad day."

"Can we talk about it?" Maeve asked.

"There's a lot to talk about," Spencer said.

"All I have is time," Maeve said. He nodded.

"I-I'm gonna take a quick shower. You make some tea and we can talk in a minute," Spencer said.

"Okay," Maeve gave him a soft kiss. Spencer began to walk towards the bathroom, but she grabbed his arm. "Spence, you can tell me anything, you know that right?" He nodded, glancing at the ground and then into her blue-grey eyes.

"Yes," Spencer replied. Maeve gave him one last kiss before going into the kitchen. After placing the kettle on the stove, she tried to figure out what was troubling him so much.

Maeve knew almost everything about him from their number of phone calls and letters to each other, but there was a large part of his life he always left out: his childhood. The only thing she knew was that his father left when he was 8 and his mom was schizophrenic. He had few friends because he wasn't even 13 by time he completed high school and no one wanted to befriend the young genius. The only ones who did try to make friends with him only used him to make fun of him or to cheat off of him. Maeve wished that she could go back and be his friend so he had someone there for him.

The kettle was screeching, letting Maeve know the tea water was done. She took it of the stove and gathered two mugs, sugar, and tea bags. As she prepared their tea, she heard the shower stop. A few minutes later, Spencer came into the living room, wearing his pyjamas. Maeve took a seat on the couch and handed him his tea.

"I'm all ears Spence," Maeve said. He nodded at her and took a deep breath.

"I told you about my mom and her being in a mental institution, right?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah," Maeve replied.

"Well, they called today and said she had a mental breakdown. She hit another patient and called him Spencer. They all suspect my mom beat me as a kid now," Spencer said.

"Did she?" Maeve asked.

"M-My childhood is something I choose to forget for many reasons Maeve. I forced myself every solitary day to forget, but all those memories flooded back and I don't want them there," Spencer started to cry silently.

"Spence," Maeve said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to do this."

"I need to," Spencer insisted. "My mom was okay when I was younger, but things started getting worse by time I was three. She wouldn't take her medicine and she and dad fought a lot. They'd fight about the medicine, me, the weather, anything they could think about. I was four when-"

Suddenly Spencer pulled himself into Maeve and began to sob uncontrollably. Maeve put her mug of tea down and consoled him, rubbing his back and running her fingers through his hair. As quickly as he entered the embrace, he pulled out of it and ran towards the bathroom. Maeve followed him, but he shut and locked the door before she could enter.

All she heard was his sobs and the gut-wrenching sound of him throwing up. Maeve ran down the hallway cabinet and got two paperclips from it, rushing back to pick the bathroom lock. By time she got it open, she found Spencer in the fetal position in the bathtub, the shower pouring cold water on his clothed body. Maeve didn't know what to say, but got into the bathtub with him and pulled him into her body. She whispered comforting words into his ear as she rocked him back and forth.

"My…dad…t-t-touched me when I was four," Spencer choked out between sobs. And suddenly Maeve found herself shedding tears that were masked by the shower water. She couldn't imagine those things happing to him at so young, from the very man who was supposed to protect him.

"Let's get you out of here," Maeve said silently. She tried to pull him up but he resisted.

"I just feel so dirty," Spencer said in a quiet voice. Maeve turned the shower off.

"You're gonna make yourself sick," Maeve said. He forced himself to comply and stood up. Maeve wrapped a towel around him and led him to the bedroom.

"I couldn't remember that until today. I thought I only forgot the fighting and my mom hitting me," Spencer took a quivering breath. "She didn't mean to though. She forgot I was her son and thought I was trying to break in and things like that. But that didn't make it hurt any less." He stood up and began to remove his shirt. His lean, slightly muscular chest, arms, and back were covered in scars.

"Spencer," Maeve whispered almost inaudibly.

"They're not all from her. Some are from bullies and some are from me," Spencer said. Maeve stood up and ran her finger across the bullet wound on his shoulder, the one caused by Diane Turner. He held her hand and guided her fingers down his arm. He stopped at the bend of his elbow where Maeve examined several tiny circular scars.

"I was addicted to Dilaudid," he explained. Spencer led her hand to his wrist. "I cut myself to feel something when the world would go numb." He turned around, several burn marks on his back. "I was in an explosion and my back got burned." He turned back around, trailing her fingers down his chest.

He told her about every scar, every bruise. Everything. And she placed a kiss on every last scar. She dried his tears and held him close.

"47," Maeve said grimly.

"What?" Spencer asked.

"47 scars. 47 times you needed someone and 47 times no one was there," Maeve said. She held his wrist. "I never want you to do this again, because no one should feel alone and you won't be alone any more Spencer Reid, I promise you baby, I swear." She kissed his wrist gently.

The stood in each others embrace for a while. Spencer had calmed down, but the emotions were still there.

"How long does it take?" Spencer broke the silence.

"I can't tell you, but it gets better," Maeve promised him.

"I have to tell someone about my dad, don't I?" Spencer asked. Maeve nodded.

"I'll be there with you though," Maeve said.

"Was anyone there for you?" Spencer asked. Maeve was silent.

"No," Maeve said. He kissed her forehead and grabbed her wrist. Several faded scars danced her milky skin, several scars she had given herself after she was raped by her first boyfriend when she was 13. He traced 'Stay' on her wrist before kissing it.

"I wish I could go back and be there for you," Spencer said. Maeve, still holding his wrist, traced 'Forever' on it. He gave a small smile once he recognized the letters she traced.

"I wish I could do the same for you," Maeve said. "Love is our true destiny." She started.

"We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone –" Spencer continued.

"We find it with another," the completed the Thomas Merton quote together as they leaned into a soft kiss.

"_All this time spent in vain_

_Wasted years, wasted gain_

_All is lost, hope remains_

_And this war's not over…"_


End file.
